The Face in the Crowd
by patricia51
Summary: Tim McGee lost the love of his life to a terrorist attack just as he finally acknowledged how much he cared for Delilah Fielding. But has he? Meanwhile an attractive grad student named Alex Jensen has just gone to work for Doctor Sheldon Cooper at CalTech. Will their paths cross? Well of course! Crossover NCIS/Big Bang Theory. Tim and Delilah/Alex.
1. Chapter 1

The Face in the Crowd by patricia51

(Tim McGee lost the love of his life to a terrorist attack just as he finally acknowledged how much he cared for Delilah Fielding. But has he? Meanwhile an attractive grad student named Alex Jensen has just gone to work for Doctor Sheldon Cooper at CalTech. Will their paths cross? Well of course! Crossover NCIS/Big Bang Theory. Tim and Delilah/Alex.)

(Note: I started this before "Double Back". If you haven't seen it SPOILER ALERT. At that time I was terribly worried that the show was going to kill off Delilah. Whew. I'm VERY happy they didn't. Executive producer Gary Glasberg has said we will see a paralyzed Delilah "taking control of her life and [rising] up after what she's been through". So I'm excited (as long as that includes Tim). Meanwhile I'm not going to waste a perfectly good story that I've already started so consider this AU.)

(Washington, DC)

Tim McGee ignored the knocking on his door as he had ignored everything else for the last several days. When the drone had crashed into the Gala he had been attending with Delilah it had effectively ended a new world he was just entering. A world that loomed with the promise of marriage, of children, of a woman beside him so special he had nearly ruined things simply because he was afraid it was all too good to be true. And obviously it had been.

He thought she was going to survive. But she relapsed and had to be taken back to surgery. Unable to sit and wait any longer he had gone in to the office. Everyone had tried to get him to leave but he persisted; throwing himself into the search for Parsa. It was during this frantic effort that the phone call had come. He hadn't been at his desk so it had been picked up by Tony. One look at the Senior Field Agent's face had told Tim everything he needed to know. Delilah was dead.

The days ran together in the pursuit for the terrorist. It ended successfully. Tim's only regret was that Gibbs had been the shooter, depriving him of the chance to kill the man who had destroyed his life. There was the funeral, closed casket, and he had held up meeting Delilah's family, offering his condolences and getting many more in return. Her mother had embraced him and held him tightly, whispering to him they had heard so much and had such hopes that he would one day be a member of their family. Delilah's father assured him that he WAS a member, that the feelings his daughter had for Tim were unmistakable.

Running on pure adrenaline and desire for revenge can only hold someone up for so long. He had finally collapsed and Ducky had carried him home, checked him out and commanded him to bed. He had done so. And stayed that way. It had taken two days for him to get out of bed and he had just wandered around the apartment. For hours he had sat on his couch holding one of the pieces of clothing that Delilah had kept here.

The knocking stopped. He was grateful for that. Then there was the click of a lock and the door opened. He looked at it in astonishment as though it had somehow opened itself rather than through the efforts of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

The team leader held up a key. "You never got this back from Abby."

Even with the way he felt Tim braced himself for a blistering lecture accompanied by head-slaps as required punctuation for the main points. Instead Gibbs simply sat down on the couch with him. Instead of anger there was a deep concern in the usual steely eyes.

"It hurts like hell." the older agent stated simply.

It did. And Tim knew that if anyone understood it was Gibbs. But it was too much of an effort to say anything. So he simply nodded.

"I'm not going to tell you the only thing that will help with this is time. That's true but only if you allow it to do so. I didn't Tim. Besides the alcohol I used at first I have kept the hurt inside of me to this day. That's why I have three failed marriages and many more aborted relationships. Don't do that. You have too much potential and too long a life to live by emulating me."

Tim looked at his boss in amazement. He never expected him to open up like that or the arm that the gruff hard-core former Gunny put around his shoulder.

"I need you Tim. There's work to be done. There are others out there who would deprive other people of those they love. Help me stop them. Dedicate that to Delilah's memory. Don't let it consume you, rather let her guide you even now." With that Gibbs rose and left, locking the door behind him.

Almost mechanically Tim stood up. He brought the blouse he had been holding to his nose to see if there was any of Delilah's scent left on it. He couldn't tell because it struck him for the first time since he had taken refuge here after the funeral that he just plain smelled bad. Suddenly he ran to put Delilah's blouse somewhere it wouldn't be contaminated. Then he was in the shower and he shaved and cleaned the apartment before getting dressed properly and heading to work.

Gibbs was right. There were other Parsas out there and someone needed to stop them. As long as he could focus on that he would be alright. There would still the nights when he would wake in a cold sweat and even screaming and there would be days when he would endlessly relive the bombing trying to think of what he could have done and how many different outcomes he could imagine. But maybe he could hold them at bay until they soften. He knew they would never go away.

(Pasadena, California some months later)

Doctor Sheldon Cooper closed the file folder with a pleased expression on his face with the reply the trim dark-haired young female graduate student had just given him.

"Oh well in that case welcome aboard Miss Jensen."

Alex Jensen rose and smiled before leaving the office.

"Well now I have a job," she reflected. "What am I going to do for a life?"

(Previously)

Delilah Fielding groaned and tried to open her eyes. She succeeded but everything was blurred. She blinked repeatedly trying to focus. One attempt at shaking her head was quite enough as it started loud bells being smacked with sledgehammers between her ears. Finally things began to form normal objects; like the doctors and nurses examining her and her boss from the Department of Defense. There were also a couple of vaguely familiar faces she couldn't put names to although she knew one was from the CIA she had worked with before. The other she had seen in passing and had something to do with the Justice Department.

It was whom she didn't see that worried her. Apparently she was no longer critical or intensive care since those non-medical personnel were present. So where was her family? Surely they had been notified. And most important of all, where was Tim?

She wanted to ask those questions but a spasm of pain ran through her entire body and instead of talking she gasped. Okay, moaned was more the correct description. One of the doctors hastily adjusted a drip line. From the warmth that spread through her body Delilah assumed it was a painkiller, probably morphine which meant she was pretty badly hurt indeed.

Someone must have been reading her mind because an older doctor with a distinct air of authority began talking, to her but also to the rest of the room.

"Miss Fielding I'm Doctor Perry Cox, Chief of Medicine here at Sacred Heart. We almost lost you once but the good news is that although you're not completely out of the woods yet and face a long recovery period things are looking very positive for your full recovery. One of us," he indicated three other doctors behind him, one white and one black males and a blonde young woman, "will be checking on you often and monitoring your progress." He turned to look, almost glare, at the threesome. "Come on Newbie, Gandhi, Barbie, we need to leave the room to these other guys." The doctors left, taking the nurses with them. That left her boss, the CIA man and the Justice Department man whom she now saw wore some kind of badge pinned to his suit coat.

"Okay," she managed to croak, "What's going on?"

Her boss shook his head. "Unlike the doctor the news we have isn't good."

Fear shot through her. "Is it Tim? Is he alright?"

"Tim's fine. Physically. Emotionally that's a completely different story. You see, he thinks you're dead."

"WHAT?"

"Delilah I know that's a shock, a helluva shock in fact but there's a good reason for that," her boss responded hastily. "It's for his own safety as well as yours." He motioned to the CIA man. "Augie can you explain briefly? We don't want to over-extend her."

The man nodded and moved forward so smoothly and confidently that it took Delilah a moment to recall that the analyst and former Special Forces soldier was blind. They had worked together before along with his partner and friend (and she suspected much closer) blonde female agent whose name she could NOT recall either right now.

"Hi Delilah, sorry to be meeting again under these circumstances. Information we have developed shows that although Benham Parsa wanted to make a spectacular attack as is his normal approach the actual specific target he was seeking was you. And," he hesitated for a moment, "not only will he not stop coming after you but his organization is determined to eliminate you and will continue even if Parsa is taken out of the picture. You have just been too successful at pinpointing them and their plans. Delilah there is a multi-million dollar open-end contract on you."

Her boss took over. "Until we can neutralize this threat and I promise you that we WILL do just that, everyone concerned thinks it best if you appear to have died in the attack. Your safety is paramount. And not just yours but your family's and yes Tim McGee's as well. I met him at the gala and I was impressed with him. I could also tell how close you two are. They'll come after him to get to you. SO for now you have to disappear off the grid."

"How?"

Augie stepped back and her boss motioned to the short balding man from Justice. "By hiding you in plain sight although on the other side of the country. This is Stan McQueen with the US Marshal's Service. Specifically he is the Deputy Director in charge of the Witness Protection Program."

"Miss Fielding. What I'm going to do is assign a WitSec Inspector to talk to you, when you are feeling better of course. He or she will get to know you and then we'll figure out where to place you. Hopefully it will be some place and in a position where you not only will be safe but also where your talents can be used both in your new profession and by DoD if a safe conduit for communication can be established. But that's in the future. For right now when you leave here only the Marshal's Service will know where you are. I have to stress that under no circumstances can you violate security by contacting anyone, no matter how important, from your life as you know it now. You'll be starting all over again."

After a few more remarks everyone left to give her time to absorb everything. Nurses and doctors came and went but by and large Delilah ignored them. Her mind was too busy with everything she had just learned. One over-riding thought kept coming back to her.

Tim. What was she going to do without Tim? And if she ever was able to come back out of the shadows into the light would he forgive her? Would he still want her?

(To be continued)


	2. Chapter 2

The Face in the Crowd, Chapter 2 by patricia51

(Baltimore MD six months later)

Glass tinkled. The men gathered around a heavy workbench laden with mechanical components looked up at the broken window high on one metal wall just in time for the flash-bang grenade that had shattered it to explode. Blinded, they staggered back, pawing at their eyes and trying to find weapons that had been laid aside while they worked.

There was no time to recover. A second explosion blew open the heavy metal roll-up door. But rather than being caused by explosives the door was torn loose by a thick metal pole tipped with a hardened shield. And that pole was attached to a squat six wheeled armored vehicle. Figures that had been waiting on either side of the doorway poured inside. They were heavily armed with shotguns and assault rifles in addition to the normal handguns.

"Federal Officers!" bellowed Jethro Gibbs at the top of his Marine-trained voice. "Face down on the ground. Do it NOW!"

A chorus of other similar commands echoed through the building. For an instant the defenders wavered but there was no hope for them. The attack had been too sudden and overwhelming. They all dropped where they were. All except one.

"There's a runner," shouted Ellie Bishop, tracking a fleeing form up on a catwalk with the muzzle of her pistol. "Halt. NCIS!"

The figure ignored her. Even over the echoes of the team's entrance frantic footsteps rang on the metal walkway. The figure snatched opened a door and disappeared for an instant only to suddenly bounce back, stagger and measure its length on the catwalk as it fell. Tim McGee popped through the opening, weapon trained on the prostrate man.

"Roll over on your stomach," he directed. "Slowly. Keep your hands in sight at all times. Don't tempt me; I don't need much of an excuse."

The driver's hatch on the entry vehicle clanged. Tony levered himself out, a broad smile on his face. "Boss we have GOT to get us one of these."

The senior officer of the Baltimore Police Department whose vehicle it was grinned. "If you had stayed with us instead of running off to Washington to be a Fed you might have got to drive this all the time."

"More than likely he'd still be walking a foot beat," teased a dark-haired female detective who was acting as a liaison between Baltimore and Boston Police for this as the investigation had begun up in Bean Town. The rest of the team hadn't caught her name but she who seemed to be an old friend of Tony's.

"That's more likely," conceded Tony. "Still, it was good to see you all again. Even you Jane." The pair smiled at each other.

The prisoners were cuffed, searched and sorted before being carted off to jail by the marked units that had been waiting several blocks away.

"Now comes the hard part," groaned Tony as he surveyed the piles of Navy equipment hijacked from several supply trucks over the last few weeks. One driver had been wounded when he resisted which was why the team had come with heavy local back-up to take down the theft and smuggling ring.

"What?" asked a puzzled Ellie.

"Now," said Tim, nearly as glum as the team's senior field agent, "we get to inventory, tag and list all the recovered property so it can be moved to an evidence warehouse and eventually returned to Navy supply channels."

"But that could take days!" protested the newest team member.

"So you better get started right away," Gibbs said. Everyone groaned and got out clipboards and markers along with laptops and cameras.

"Good job figuring out their tactics and location Tim," the silver-haired agent added.

"Thanks boss but it was Ellie who put all the trails together to lead us here," Tim replied.

"True but good, solid police work to give her those trails."

"And a nice take down up there," added Tony. "What did you do to him?"

"Clotheslined him as he came out the door," admitted Tim.

Tony shook his head, "Fifteen yards for that McStrangler." He reflected for a moment. "But at least you didn't have to chase him for sixteen blocks this time."

Tim smiled. It had been hard, very hard for a while. While sometimes Tony's jokes and teasing were over the line it had all become something he had got used to. And back during Gibb's temporary retirement they had pretty much ceased. Beginning then Tony had started treating him as more of an equal and calling him by name rather than the endless series of nicknames that were occasionally quite clever but mostly silly. They had become friends.

When Delilah died, a phrase that still hurt whenever he thought it but now he COULD think it instead of avoiding it even in his own mind, Tony had thrown all jokes and teasing and names to the side. He had tried to be the best friend and partner possible. Tim remembered with warmth Ellie having pulled him aside and told him Tony had said aloud "I feel so helpless" when the news had come. It wasn't often that the ex-city cop admitted that and even less when he meant it. But he had.

However as time did indeed begin to heal the wounds, or at least lightly scab them over it became harder and harder for the normally irrepressible Tony to contain himself. Fearing his partner would explode Tim had taken advantage of Tony taking a wrong turn on the way to a crime scene to call him "DiNavigato". After an incredulous look followed by "That is SO Bad" from him and Bishop both and then a smile as Tony realized what his friend was doing. He was still supportive, often inviting (or dragging him along protesting) out for a drink or dinner and even trying to get Tim to double date with him when he found himself caught between two attractive roommates. Things were much better.

Everyone was aware of why Tim had chased that one fugitive for that distance and would have done it for twice that if he had to do so. In conjunction with Tobias and his FBI team they had raided a suspected terrorist cell having a possible connection to Parsa. Tim still dreamed of centering his sights between that man's eyes and pulling the trigger. He did that even when Gibbs had taken him aside at the range one day.

"Tim, I know what you're thinking. I can see it on your face. It won't help."

Tim did something he never dreamed he would do. He shrugged. "Whatever. It's good motivation for keeping my up marksmanship"

That probably was part of the reason when the team returned from Baltimore he was directed to the conference room where not surprisingly he was met by a now getting to be quite familiar female. He greeted her politely.

"Hello Doctor Cranston."

"Hello Tim." Kate's sister searched his face. "How are you? And please don't reply 'I'm fine and how are you?'."

"But I AM fine and I'd like to know how you are," Tim protested.

"I'm good too and I'm checking on you."

"Really Doctor Cranston, I'm doing better."

"I believe you. Just remember that you can be feeling better and then some little thing can trigger your memories and you will be right back at that night. Yes, those times will get farther apart but they will happen. I just want you to be prepared for them."

Tim nodded. "Seriously, I know. It's happened. All of a sudden I'm back in that ballroom or the hospital or simply the memories of what we had and what I lost overwhelm me. But I AM better. I can deal better although there still are some sleepless nights."

"Okay. Take care. Please Tim, call me if you need me. Don't fight this by yourself."

(Previously)

"You want me to be a what?" Delilah asked incredulously.

"We think we've found you a perfect job and cover as a graduate student in physics at CalTech and a possible position as a graduate assistant." Delia Parmalee, explained to her. "If not with the research scientist we have in kind then perhaps another."

"I don't know the first thing about Physics," Delilah protested. "Well, I DID take the two basic required courses in college but that's all."

"But you DO have a Master's degree in Mathematics and are working on your doctorate. You're an extremely quick study and well, to be honest; the physicist we are making up a resume for has a habit of never involving his grad assistants in his actual work. And as he is a theoretical physicist only there won't be hands-on experimentation. You'll be called on to do some research but with your math background you should be able to pick everything else up you need in a hurry.

"I must be suffering withdrawal symptoms from the pain medications I was taking but you are starting to make sense. It seems rather boring though. I mean not actually doing any real work."

The pleasant African-American Deputy US Marshal smiled. "I've read up on you Delilah. I have the feeling that you will find things to interest you once you are immersed in the rarified air of a big college research program."

"That sounds like I might find a challenge somewhere," Delilah admitted. "But..."

"But it's the personal side that has you concerned," the very perceptive woman finished for her.

"Yes. No contact with anyone from this life. Not my parents and not my boyfriend."

"It would only put them in jeopardy."

"What if I was married?"

"But you're not."

"My boyfriend is a Federal Law-Enforcement Agent," Delilah argued. "He can be trusted." She knew that this had all been thrashed out not once but several times but she tried one more time. She and Tim had finally started moving beyond casual to something serious and she hated the thought of losing him. Besides the simple truth that she had fallen for the serious, brilliant but caring NCIS agent she felt like she was running away from a fight with terror and she didn't care for that at all. And just as the other attempts had ended this one ended with Delia shaking her head.

"I'm sure he can but that's the rules. And think of it this way. As I understand you are being hidden from a terrorist cell. Once it's brought down then you can hopefully return to DoD, your family and your boyfriend."

"I hope so," Delilah conceded. The fact that this was the safest route for herself, her family and for Tim didn't lessen the pain. And even if she was able to return to her life would they understand? Would Tim have moved on?

Delia patted her hand. Delilah was grateful this personable and sweet female was handling her. From what she had seen of the other Marshal involved, a hard-core, tough as nails blonde woman named Mary it was obvious Delia was the people person of the team.

"Okay then, let's start learning your cover. Your name is Alexandra Jensen but you go by Alex. You graduated summa cum laude from Stanford. You are originally from..."

Delilah, no she was Alex now apparently, concentrated on the flow of words as well as the documents that had been prepared for her. She was impressed. The records of her so-called life were impeccable. There were even the usual blemishes that most people accumulate through their life, including things like parking tickets which she noted with interest she had pair when they were WAY overdue. Delia had even brought advanced undergraduate and graduate textbooks on Physics for her to study. Maybe she could make something of all this.

Still though, her heart was lonely and she didn't think that would change.

"Catch him Tim," she pleaded in the recesses of her mind. "Catch him and all his people and make it safe for me to come back to you."

(To be continued)


	3. Chapter 3

The Face in the Crowd, Chapter 3 by patricia51

(Pasadena, CA)

"Good morning Doctor Cooper. Good morning Doctor Hofstadter. Doctor Koothrapali, Mister Wolowitz good morning."

The return greetings were the same ones she had got accustomed to by now. Leonard Hofstadter smiled and said "Good morning". Raj Koothrapali turned red and nodded without a word. Howard Wolowitz's eyes lit up like he was a lion who had spotted a gazelle grazing with her head down and facing away. That was particularly appropriate she reflected to herself as he did tend to zero in on her rear end. And Sheldon Cooper of course grunted and said something about enough shilly-shallying it was time to get to work.

Unbelievably it had all worked out. Delilah, Alex, had been whisked to a private field by the pair of women US Marshals and bundled on a Gulfstream that carried her to California. And Doctor Sheldon Cooper had turned out to be no obstacle. All that was required was an appeal to his vanity coupled with the straight-faced assurance that she was NOT doing exactly that and she had the job.

Her worries that she would be found out as a fraud in short order were groundless. Sheldon Cooper simply wanted a grad student to organize his schedule and search through childhood notebooks. She had made a list of key words, studied on them and cross-referenced them in those notebooks. So far she had found nothing worth bringing to his attention. The rest of her time was occupied by things a personal secretary did, which apparently were acceptable to dump on a grad student. The one thing she wasn't required to do was anything involving his actual research. But she continued to intensively study Physics just in case.

Besides, it wasn't as though she really had anything else to do at night. She kept track of what was going on in Washington and slowly she allowed herself to be drawn into the social scene at the University. Well at least as far as the Physics department went.

She had dealt with a number of very strange people over the years. After all, not all of her activities had been behind a desk. She had made field trips to the Middle East, the better to learn the people there, what they thought, how they acted, what they believed. No amount of second hand reports, as valuable as they were and as good as she was at combining pieces together from multiple sources and coming up with an overall picture, took the place of actually understanding the opposition. "Know your enemy" wasn't just for the battlefield itself. And to know the enemy one had to know the culture that surrounded and shaped him.

Having said that she really had never met anyone as plain weird as Doctor Sheldon Cooper and his friends and collegues. Maybe collegaues was not the correct definition. Sheldon believed he operated on a level so high that he had no equals except perhaps Stephen Hawking. Maybe he did, after all geniuses rarely were polite, friendly and well-behaved socially. But he did take it to extremes. So the others were friends.

It WAS amusing to watch the by-play between some of them. Sheldon was forever in verbal warfare with Doctor Leslie Winkle, a war in which he seemed to lose most of the battles He appeared to think he scored crushing blows occasionally but actually his best efforts were near-misses at best. In spite of his belief that he was head and shoulders above all other scientists Sheldon had fallen short more than once in his rivalry with Doctor Barry Kripke, once in some sort of robot fighting competition that had taken place long before she arrived but one very recent when it turned out Kripke's work on a proposed fusion reactor was far ahead of Sheldon's. One important difference was that Leslie Winkle didn't hit on her and Barry Kripke did.

Well far more capable men had hit on Delilah Fielding in the past and she had handled them. Kripke wasn't that bad but Howard's completely misplaced personal conviction that he was a smooth talking charming ladies man was really funny at the core. So she laughed to herself and was properly amazed when he did end up with a permanent fulltime girlfriend and he stopped his pursuit of her. What was even more astounding was that Leonard Hofstadter's girlfriend Penny had put up with Howard's self-confident shenanigans and had apparently had to resort to physical force to discourage him only once.

Alex, the name she more and more continued to even think of herself by, paused from shuffling through the stack of Sheldon's childhood notebooks, paused and blushed. Although she and Penny had sort of become friends she should be thankful that Penny hadn't used physical force when she found out Alex had flirted with Leonard. And she would have deserved it.

Okay, there WERE mitigating circumstances. Sort of anyway. She had thought Leonard's relationship with some out-of-sight girlfriend was on the rocks and she had simply started out to comfort and console a man whom she found very nice and quite attractive. She had met Penny but thought she was Leonard's research assistant or something like that.

Face facts Delilah she scolded herself, reverting to her original persona with a shake of her head. You flirted because you are lonely. And you picked Leonard Hofstadter to flirt with because he's sweet, smart, self-effacing and dedicated to his work with a broad imagination and a fondness for science-fiction and everything else that makes up a geek. Geeks were some of her favorite people. And could that be surprising when Tony Dinozzo's favorite nickname for Tim was "McGeek'? God she missed him so much.

She knew she wasn't supposed to, in fact it was completely against the rules but she had used a University computer several times to check up on him and make sure he was alright. She had never used the same one twice and never one in the Physics Department. Parsa had been brought down she found out but his organization was still up and running. Tim was busy and okay. She hoped. She really wanted him to be more than okay, she wanted him to be happy but...

Was it wicked of her to hope that maybe he hadn't quite got over her and wouldn't until her exile was revoked? Did he still have the clothes she had kept at his apartment or had he given them away to Goodwill? They usually stayed at his place when they spent the night together since his apartment was closer to both their places of work than hers was. Because of that she had been happily surprised during her hasty packing to discover a shirt of his that she had never got around to washing. She kept it in a clear plastic bag. Sure it was probably ridiculous and her imagination was almost certainly playing tricks anyway but she thought she could smell Tim when she undid a corner and sniffed. Crazed or not it was a link that she was not willing to give up.

She sighed and returned to the office she sat in and became Alex Jensen again. She looked at the clock. Lunchtime. She stacked the folders on the corner table that was her assigned workspace. This afternoon she would really have to pay attention. She had leafed through them but her mind had been elsewhere. Another place and another person.

Oh well. She headed for the cafeteria. She had made friends with several other grad students about her own age and ate with them usually. Leonard and Raj and a much more retrained Howard never minded her joining them but Sheldon was worried it would give her visions of dreams she could never attain. As if this was the summit of her ambitions. It was part of her cover though so she made the best of it. And there was someone new to their group she had been told. A new woman who had just arrived for a faculty position of some kind but who seemed to prefer the likes of Alex and her friends rather than the rarified air of the faculty. She looked forward to meeting her.

(Washington DC)

By no means had Tim discarded the slightest thing that Delilah had left at his apartment. For weeks and weeks he had clung to all of them, everything from the blouse and skirt that had always hung in the closet ready for any sudden emergency to the toothbrush sitting beside his in rack in the bathroom. The reminders all hurt but at the same time he could look at all of those items and just for an instant pretend that Delilah had just stepped around the corner and would be back any moment. He knew it was foolishness but it helped.

He had hesitantly told Doctor Cranston about it. She had merely nodded. "Whatever helps you deal with it Tim. Of course like anything else such imaginings can get out of hand and start to feel more real than the actual world so watch it. Use it for closure but don't whallow in it." She touched his hand. "Tim getting over your loss does NOT mean forgetting Delilah. That will never happen. But the day will come when you can look out on the world for someone else."

She meant well but he didn't want anyone else. Once he had finally come to realize what Delilah had meant to him he had opened up completely and he didn't think that was ever going to happen again. Abby had been right. He had been holding back for fear of getting hurt. And regardless of how losing Delilah had hurt him he couldn't imagine not having had the time with her that they had shared. The pain was worth it.

And the pain was subsiding. Just a little each day but it added up. Her face was as sharp as ever in his mind but she didn't dominate every waking, or sleeping for that matter, moment. He continued to do all he could to pursue Parsa's network but it wasn't the single-minded drive it had been. Sheepishly he found that he was making better progress now working on all the current cases rather than ignoring anything that didn't involve the terrorist.

In fact they had just finished a celebration. In a lightning raid jointly conducted with Abigail Borin and her Coast Guard Investigative Service team backed up by heavy Homeland Security support they had taken down a small ship that had been in the process of smuggling explosives and equipment to deliver those explosives for a cell operating under Parsa's organization. They had found it through good teamwork, everyone playing their part and it had brought them that much closer to shutting down the whole terrorist network. Tim was still smiling at the final picture of Gibbs and Borin drinking coffee together in almost exactly the same pose. He and Tony grinned at each other. Maybe it would happen after all.

As he drove home he reflected. He HAD been smiling more lately. He still thought of Delilah all the time but it no longer was a stab through the heart when he did. Maybe he was getting better. When he arrived at home he carefully boxed Delilah's things up and placed the box in his closet. Well, except for one blouse. He wasn't ready to let go of everything.

(Pasadena, CA earlier)

Alex stood absolutely still, certain that her jaw had probably fallen all the way to the floor in shock. What were the odds? The odds that the new member of the faculty here was assigned to the ROTC Department and she, as Delilah Fielding, had worked hand in hand with Captain Amanda MacKenzie on a deep undercover operation in Afghanistan just two years ago.

Her cover was blown big time.

(To be continued)

(Yes I know we saw Amanda MacKenzie previously in "The Duality Synthesis" but darn it I LIKE her and thought she could fit in here too even if the two storylines are incompatible. Besides I made up a whole history for her and hate to waste it.)


	4. Chapter 4

The Face in the Crowd, Chapter 4 by patricia51

(Washington, DC)

"Ellie, seriously, thank you but I really don't want you to fix me up with one of your friends even if she 'would be perfect for me'. I appreciate the offer though."

The unorthodox blonde analyst sighed. "Tim, I'm not trying to marry you off. I'm just suggesting someone as a companion for the dinner next week. My husband Jake will be there so you all will get a chance to meet him. Tony will be going with my friend Erin from the NSA. Jimmy and Breena, Abby and her new boyfriend and Ducky and that coroner friend of his Doctor Jordan Hampton. Even Gibbs, believe it or not, will be bringing Abigail Borin. You don't want to be the lone person there."

"Thank you Ellie but no." "Tim, don't feel like you are betraying Delilah by bringing a woman to what basically is the next thing to a family get-together. I promise you. I've told her all about you and to be honest she's not interested in anything more than a casual time and a good dinner out. In fact she's just passing through because she's here to cover a baseball series between the Nationals and the Cubs. When it's over she'll be on her way back to Chicago."

"Ellie that's great but a sports writer? Exactly how much do you think we'll have in common?"

"That's something for you to discover," the blonde agent replied serenely.

Tim persisted but when Tony joined in he finally gave up. "Okay, okay. But she'll probably think I'm some kind of techno-nerd."

"Well after all McGeek, you are," teased Tony. The warm smile and the arm the Senior Field Agent threw around Tim's shoulders turned it from the sting that it might have once had into a joke between friends.

As it turned out Tim had a very nice Friday night. PJ (Don't you DARE call me Penelope Jane) Franklin of the Chicago Sun-Times turned out to be down-to-earth, relaxed and full of jokes as well as having an seemingly inexhaustible fund of inside comments and stories not only about baseball and its players but about most sports as well as wide ranging other interests.

"Hey just because I write sports doesn't mean I don't occasionally read the rest of the paper."

In fact Tim had such a good time he hated to see the evening end and immediately accepted PJ's invitation to take in the ball game from the press box with her the next afternoon. For once nothing was pressing the Major Case Response Team. Gibbs's simple encouragement of "Have a good time Tim" settled it.

When the party broke up Tony winked and asked Tim what his plans were for the rest of the night. After rolling his eyes and pointing out that Ellie and her husband were taking PJ back to her hotel room Tim added "Tonight? I'll be up studying baseball." And he was.

The next day he enjoyed himself. The atmosphere in the sports box was both raucous and intensely professional. PJ shoved an overflowing paper cup full of beer in his hand and indicated the pile of hot dogs and hamburgers in one corner before pulling him down to sit beside her. He enjoyed her comments as she took notes; cheering with her when the Cubs did something good and groaning when the reverse happened.

Tim wasn't completely unfamiliar with the Great American Pastime that was baseball but he had to admit he had never realized just how much strategy and decision-making went into the game until PJ pointed it out. He enjoyed listening as she discussed things he had never thought of like a subtle infield shift to defend against a particular batter or how a pitcher set up a batter with his pitch control and conversely how the batter eyed the incoming pitch from the time the pitcher started his windup in order to anticipate the ball's placement. The multiple statistics recorded by the spotters appeared to his methodical nature and he laughed often at PJ's spontaneity. All in all he not only had a great time he vowed to pay a lot more attention to the rest of the season.

He wasn't exactly late on Monday morning but he arrived just in time. He cheerfully admitted to Ellie and Tony who besieged him with questions and teasing comments that he had stayed out at the airport until PJ had caught the red-eye back to Chicago and yes they planned to stay in touch. What he didn't get into was the long talks they had about her best friend Bobby Newman, a sportswriter for the rival Chicago Tribune who was beginning to be a lost more to her than just a friend and she had listened to him talk about Delilah. There was no doubt as to their status; they were going to be friends and just friends.

Even so Tim admitted to himself and later to Rachel Cranston that he felt guilty about having such a pleasant time with another woman be she firmly in the friend zone or not.

"Perfectly natural Tim. Part of you is moving on and that makes you feel like you are leaving Delilah behind. Trust me, you never will do that. But you have to live your life Tim and not in the past," she had told him, sentiments that Ducky echoed when Tim talked to him.

He understood what was happening but sometimes that made him miss Delilah even more.

(Los Angeles, CA)

"Slow down Alex, slow down!" exclaimed Deputy US Marshal Delia Parmalee. "My head is spinning. One minute you tell me your cover is blown and the next that no, it's still intact. Which is it?"

Alex took a deep breath. "Sorry Delia. It was a shock." She went on to tell about being invited by friends to meet a new faculty member only to have it turn out to be an Army Military Intelligence Captain named Amanda MacKenzie, whom she had worked with in Afghanistan."

"So she recognized you?" Delia asked rhetorically even as she snapped open her phone to call in the clans to displace Alex to a new location and identity as soon as possible.

"Yes BUT," Alex said quickly, figuring out immediately what Delia was about to do.

"But what?"

"But she didn't give me away."

"She didn't?"

"The mutual friend who was introducing us had already said 'Hey Mandy I want you to meet Alex Jensen'. So when she turned around the polite smile on her face didn't slip a bit as I shook my head ever so slightly. She simply said it was nice to meet me, that she had heard a lot about me from our mutual friends and that she was sure we would be friends as well. She never blinked."

"Just who is this Amanda MacKenzie?"

"Well nothing like getting it from the horse's mouth I always say," a third female voice broke in. Both women turned. Standing there in a crisp Army Class-A uniform was obviously the person in question.

"Mandy!" Alex bounded from her chair and hugged the new arrival.

Delia raised an eyebrow. "Captain MacKenzie I presume. And may I ask just exactly how you knew how to find us?"

"I meet an old friend Delilah Fielding that I know is a top-flight intelligence analyst for the Department of Defense only she's now named Alex Jensen and she's a graduate student in Physics at Caltech. It doesn't take a genius to figure out she's being hidden away and the most likely way that's being done is by the US Marshals' Witness Protection Program. As to your location fir heaven's sake you're in the phone book. Even if you weren't I happen to have a West Point classmate assigned here although he has religiously declined to tell me exactly what he does here."

"You didn't think there could be another reason she was using an assumed name? Something criminal perhaps?"

The Army officer snorted. "Delilah? Criminal? Please. I did know something was going on but it wasn't that. I would trust her with my life. In fact I have."

"Oh?"

"I suppose under the circumstances you could tell her Mandy," Alex put in thoughtfully. "It would save explanations."

"Including why you were carrying a .45 Automatic that you left with security."

"Okay."

(Kabul Afghanistan 2 years previously)

Eight people, two of them women, were seated around a table in a heavily guarded section of the Headquarters of the US Military in Afghanistan.

"This is the perfect opportunity to deeply scout out the Taliban in detail in that area," argued Delilah.

"Can't we use local agents?" suggested one of the men in battledress with a single black star on each of his collar tips.

"Too unreliable," Delilah responded. "The enemy has the whole area firmly under their thumb. Any local agents we could recruit would as likely as not be doubled or quickly ferreted out and killed."

"But you don't think these two will be?" The General indicated the pair seated at the far end of the table.

"No. They're the best. Chief Warrant Officer Five Vic Dallen is a 30 year Special Forces veteran who has operated several times in deep cover recon. He has passed for an Afghan before."

"Successfully?" The Green Beret looked at the civilian questioner with visible restraint. "If I hadn't been successful I'd be dead." His tone alone seemed to be adding "You idiot" to his words. The civilian flushed.

Delilah pressed on. "Yes, Vic has done this before, masquerading as an itinerant merchant. But for this long recon he needs a wife. Therefore," she indicated the female next to Vic, "this is Captain Amanda MacKenzie, US Army Military Intelligence. She speaks Pashto fluently and her part Cherokee ancestry allows her to pass as a native. She's also an excellent pistol shot. Vic can be openly armed with an AK of course but Mandy will keep her 45 under her robes in a shoulder holster as a last back-up should they be compromised. That of course is something we hope won't happen but just in case we've planned for it."

The civilian grumbled. "This should still be an Agency operation, not military."

Delilah shrugged. "You can of course set your own one up. This briefing includes you as a courtesy. But DoD came up with this and frankly neither of our volunteers would accept Agency supervision. I'm pleased that they have enough confidence in my capabilities to trust me as control."

"Who'll be in charge?" asked the other woman. "A Captain outranks a Chief Warrant Officer I believe."

"This is a Special Operations mission. Therefore the senior Special Operations specialist commands."

"And you are alright with this Captain MacKenzie?" the woman persisted.

Mandy smiled. "I'm sure everyone would agree that only a fool would try to tell Mister Dallen how to conduct this mission. And I'm not a fool."

The General in charge of all Special Operations in Afghanistan, whom Delilah had previously briefed, closed the meeting by rising to his feet. "Thank you Miss Fielding. Mister Dallen, Captain MacKenzie, the best of luck to you."

(Two days later)

Early in the morning before dawn a small tightly guarded convoy prepared to leave. They would take the two soldiers and their horses and pack animals out into no-man's land and hopefully drop them off without being observed. From there the pair would make their way slowly through the enemy dominated hills.

"You guys be careful," Delilah whispered to them.

"Just a walk in the park," Vic reassured her. She knew he didn't have to say more. The impressive record he had compiled over the years spoke for itself.

"We'll be fine," added Mandy.

Delilah smiled. She and the female Army officer had become good friends during the planning for this operation. Both were confident, secure in their professions and both had a dry sense of humor that saw the funny side of situations when no one else was laughing.

The pair mounted their animals and slowly disappeared in the twilight. Once they were gone the convoy continued on. As far as Delilah could tell they had not been made.

(Los Angeles, Present Day)

"Apparently you made it back alright," observed Delia, "or you wouldn't be sitting here."

Mandy shrugged. "Like Vic said; a walk in the park."

"Horse pucky," said Alex. She looked at Delia. "Yes it went great for several weeks. They picked up tons of information. Everyone haggles when they buy or sell and it's astounding how much stuff gets bandied about. People brag. They had a burst transmitter that disassembled into a few innocuous pieces they scattered about their pack animals when not in use. The hardest thing for us was sitting on some of the information so people wouldn't connect the raids we staged with the wandering merchant. Then we got an emergency call for pickup."

"Which you responded to immediately," interjected Mandy, "because during those weeks you barely left the control center. You had a Blackhawk escorted by two Apache gunships in the air to our reported location within minutes. And a good thing too."

"And why was that?" asked a fascinated Delia.

"They had been held up by four men claiming to be Taliban fighters but who were really just bandits. And for once they were caught off-guard. Fortunately they concentrated on Vic, allowing Mandy to draw her .45 automatic and start dropping them. When she started shooting they instinctively looked at her so Vic was able to open up as well. He got two, she got two and all was well except the last one clamped down on his AK as he went down and both of them took hits. But they were awake and alert when we got there."

"Notice the 'we' in that Marshal Parmalee. Delilah, pardon me Alex, was on the Blackhawk."

"The point of this story Delia is that Mandy and I have complete faith in each other. And not only are her security clearances through the roof but she also has the authority to be armed just about everywhere in the world including California."

"I don't know why she is in Witness Protection," added Mandy, "But I won't give her away and if someone is looking for her I make a pretty good bodyguard."

Delia was silent. "This is beyond my pay grade," she admitted. "Generally there is nothing to discuss. Someone is recognized and they're on their way to a new identity before the smoke clears. But this is different. Fortunately the Regional Director for WitSec is here right now and he's an old friend. We'll go see him."

(To be continued)


End file.
